


Migraine

by PhilosophicalRune



Category: Sanders Sides, Sanders Sides (Video Blogging RPF) - Fandom, Sanders Sides (Web Series), Thomas Sanders
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Headaches & Migraines, M/M, Rated for swearing, self deprecation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-03-11 09:13:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13521153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhilosophicalRune/pseuds/PhilosophicalRune
Summary: University is rough, especially for someone as stressed out as Virgil. While desperately trying to complete a literature assignment he may or may not have procrastinated on, Virgil develops a terrible migraine. A night that looks to be long and torturous gets even worse when Virgil's roommate Logan comes home; Virgil is embarrassed at having Logan find him in such a state of pain and anxiety. However, it turns out that Logan might be able to not only provide him with a solution to finishing his assignment on time and pain free by reading the book aloud to him, but also provide him a with a solution to a much more emotional problem Virgil barely knew he had.





	Migraine

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, gang! I haven’t posted any original content for ages; sorry about that! To make it up to you, here’s this ten thousand word analogical university AU! This is my first time writing analogical, so forgive me if I didn’t properly convey the chemistry of the pairing. I maintain that I’m better suited for writing logicality. This is also my first attempt at a human sides AU, so...yeah! I hope you enjoy it! Leave a kudos and a comment if you did; who knows, you might be tricking me into writing more fics if you do that *wink wonk*

As Virgil tenderly tottered to his bed, a bottle of painkillers in one hand and a book clutched firmly in the other, he experienced a curious torrent of thought spanning from ‘ _I_ _  want to fucking drop out and die’  _ to ‘ _ I hope no one sees me like this _ ’. 

Though he was loathe to admit that he was anything at all like his frankly annoying theatre major friend Roman, Virgil could not help but feel so dramatically existential whenever he got a migraine. Matters at hand were always black and white whenever that scalding pain behind his eye manifested itself; the grey area in which he usually thrived completely disappeared, to be replaced with extreme thoughts. And so when he flopped onto his bed, he simultaneously predicted that he was at his life’s end and also internally whined for a human presence that he could vent his pain at. 

However, on a Friday night, the chance of having a visitor was slim to none. Roman was in all likelihood either attending a show at one of the local theatres or getting utterly trashed with his groupies. Virgil was frequently surprised at his ability to do both at once. His early childhood education major friend Patton would be tagging along with Roman, shepherding him from place to place and slipping a glass of water into his hands so that he would pace himself properly. Patton was surprisingly well trained in the Bacchus maneuver for one who was soon to be teaching small children, individuals who, in all probability, regarded any fluid amber in color to either be urine or the greatest of apple juices. 

No, the only person likely to enter his dorm on a Friday night would be Logan, his biology major roommate. Virgil was willing to bet that that absolute dweeb was still in the library, immersed in a book, completely unaware of what time or what day it was. Virgil was about to crack a fond smile at the thought when the sizzling pain in his skull suddenly spiked sharply, causing him to hiss between his teeth and to clap a hand to his eye. With difficulty and shaking hands, he popped open the lid of the painkillers, and regretted ignoring Logan’s advice. He could practically hear his roommate droning in his mind: ‘ _ It would be in your best interests to take an appropriate painkiller for a headache or migraine as soon as you begin to experience symptoms. This essentially ‘nips it in the bud’, if you will. Taking the pills after the pain has set in reduces its effectiveness. _

It wasn’t Virgil’s fault that he had work to do and had therefore ignored the slight throbbing in his head. He just assumed that the discomfort was all apart of reading an abysmally boring text for his abysmally boring literature class. And then, the universe decided to stake a personal vendetta against him and instill in him a debilitating migraine right in the middle of a chapter of  _ The Epic of Gilgamesh _ . Virgil had cried out in pain, completely aware that he was well past Logan’s ideal threshold of pain pill consumption time. 

And so it came to pass that Virgil lay in a fetal position on his bed, the ancient epic clutched to his chest as he tried to crack his conundrum. To read or not to read? Unsurprisingly, he had procrastinated on reading the first three chapters (tablets? He was fairly certain the book was split into tablets), and had waited until the very last few hours until the quiz his professor had assigned was due to begin reading. And so with aching eyes and heart, he reopened the book and began to torpidly scan repetitive lines broken up by ellipses and footnotes, wishing for someone or something to release him from his hell. 

As time wore on and Virgil found it increasingly difficult to focus on absorbing the text while suppressing the desire to vomit, he felt the only too familiar pang of cold tension tug at his chest. God, why had his professor made the quiz due on a Friday night? No professor in their right mind would ever make an assignment due on the night on which half of the campus would be crammed into frat houses and getting up to illicit activity. Perhaps it was meant to be an exercise in time management.In any case, Virgil had procrastinated up until the proverbial last hour, and he was on the verge of tears as he desperately tried to read, absorb, and prepare himself to take the quiz.

It wouldn’t be such a big deal if Virgil hadn’t already missed or screwed up most of the quizzes the professor assigned. That in itself would also not be such a big deal if quizzes didn’t make up a good portion of Virgil’s grade. He absolutely had to take this quiz and he absolutely had to do well on it, or else his grade would surely tank. But, on the same token, what if he really did some damage if he continued to work in this state? What if his ache became so bad that he wouldn’t be able to sleep, and then he’d slack off in his classes, and that would create a huge load of work he’d have to catch up on and then-

Virgil snapped the book shut, clutching his temples and breathing desperately in an attempt to calm the overwhelming rush of thoughts pounding through his nerves. He groaned as his anxiety driven heart raced, the veins of his temples pounding like drums against his skull. He took deep breaths, rolling his blanket between his fingers as he focused on regulating his breath. He squeezed his eyes shut, moaning as the overhead light seemed to prick his eyes like needles. He painfully slid off of his bed, and gingerly picked his way over to the other side of the room so that he could flick off the lights. Instantly, the room was bathed in a soothing darkness. He sighed, and released soft gasps of pain as he wobbled back to his bed.

He buried his face into his blanket, willing his anxiety and headache to go away only to become even more panicked when he realized that simply laying there and doing nothing was not going to make matters for himself any better. He groaned, spiraling into a familiar phase of listless wallowing, wincing externally and internally as he felt more and more disgusted at himself for doing nothing as the clock ticked ever closer to his midnight deadline. 

 

* * *

 

Depending upon who was asked, it was either fortunate or unfortunate that at the moment in which Virgil began to enter a bout of apathetic dysfunctionality Logan entered the residence hall and began to ascend the steps to his room. Logan would consider it to be very fortunate that he decided quite suddenly to return to his dorm from the library early; he had been happily holed up in his nook in the expansive library when he was struck with a lack of desire to continue reading about gene splicing. He was not exactly sure what had spurned him from his usual evening activity (studying). Perhaps overhearing some of the librarians talking about their plans for the night, or perhaps noticing that the library was in fact completely deserted tipped him off to the fact that he was the outlier sitting at a study table when, really, he had no need to be. It was, to quote Roman, fucking  _ Friday _ . 

And so, on that nippy winter evening, Logan had packed his belongings away, tucked the book back onto its shelf, and had gone back to his dorm. Unlike the librarians, he really didn’t have any plans for the evening. His plan had been to study, but what with this lack of motivation, he felt that the only thing to stifle his inevitable boredom would be to head back to his dorm and perhaps watch some documentaries. It would be a quiet night in; he could rely on his psychology major roommate Virgil to maintain silence. 

Really, it was a blessing that he was rooming with Virgil. He shuddered to imagine rooming with anyone else. To room with Patton would be slightly unnerving, as the man somehow could be annoyingly nice, and to room with Roman would undoubtedly be a nightmare. Rooming with a stranger would be absolute hell; it had been in freshman year when Logan had first met Virgil as his university-assigned roommate. But they soon found common interests; reading, documentaries, and the soothing concept of silence. Both understood the importance of the comfortable silence, and both learned to accept one another's’ quirks. Virgil got used to Logan’s nitpicky cleaning behaviors, and Logan got used to Virgil listening to music at high volumes with his headphones. Their toleration quickly bloomed into a friendship. Indeed, Logan found himself issuing Virgil more thoughtful advice and less slightly-useless trivia, and Virgil made sure that if anyone ever came over that they did not violate Logan’s unwritten rules of a clean living space. They looked out for each other without verbally recognizing it. Virgil called it ‘not being a dick’. Logan called it symbiosis.

Logan was aware of Virgil’s less than ideal mental health. He knew that the man could at times fall victim to bouts of anxiety, and he knew that, as a result, he oftentimes forgot to partake in healthy habits. He’d stay up late, albeit quietly enough so that Logan could sleep, and rise early. He’d drink coffee instead of water, and forget to eat. When he managed to remember to eat, it was usually food of an unhealthy and not very filling sort. Logan, despite himself, often found that whenever he stopped off at one of the university food trucks or ventured to the local market, he bought enough food for himself and for Virgil. He wasn’t quite sure as to why or how this habit developed; he only knew that he had started doing it during finals season freshman year, and here he was, fall semester of their junior year, stopping at Virgil’s favorite sushi truck and ordering his roommate’s favorite dish. It was peculiar, his desire to provide and help, but it also gave him enough excuse to order food of his own and also give him a chance to relish the look of gratitude Virgil always shot him when he presented his gifts.

What Logan expected to find when he finally did reach his room was Virgil to either be curled up with his laptop on his chest on the floor or lying flat on his back on his bed, his bulky headphones clapped over his ears and his eyes shut. The fairy lights would be on above their beds, casting a soft filter over the order of Logan’s half of the room and the chaos of Virgil’s half. It would be warm, quiet, and domestic, almost like the way Logan’s brain felt at the idea of entering the happy environment.

However, he was  _ not  _ expecting the room to be plunged in utter darkness when he crossed the threshold. Usually, at least the fairy lights were left on when they both were out so as to prevent fumbling in the darkness. However, the room was swathed in an impenetrable, pitch black cloak of darkness. Logan, slightly baffled, promptly began to fumble in the darkness until he reached the light switch. He flicked it on, and squinted as light filled the room, his eyes adjusting slowly and painfully. His head turned sharply when he heard a thin moan issue from Virgil’s side of the room. 

Logan tilted his head, his brows furrowing as he placed the sushi on his meticulously organized desk and shrugged off his coat. “Virgil?” he asked, his tone cautious. 

There was a lump of rumpled blankets and hastily strewn about limbs on Virgil’s bed. For a moment, Logan’s heart dropped to his stomach in fear; had he just walked in on something he shouldn’t have? Virgil rarely had people over, and Logan had never known him to take them into his  _ bed  _ in such a fashion. He coughed nervously, and reached for his jacket once more when he was stopped by a high pitched whine and a few garbled words coming from Virgil’s bed.

Logan took a tentative step forward, and saw that Virgil was in fact alone. He was lying on his side, his shoulders hunched. Logan saw that he was still wearing his day clothes, his artfully patched hoodie still zipped, hell, his boots still on. He shifted, presumably burying his face into his pillow. Instantly, Logan snapped his mouth shut. Virgil was probably trying to sleep. Unexpectedly, Logan felt a smile forming on his lips and a warmth swell up in his chest. As quietly as he could, he slipped out of his boots. He glanced at his watch; it was nine in the evening, an almost suspiciously healthy hour for Virgil to be turning in. 

Logan was feeling very content at that moment. The week was over, he had sushi, and the only noise was the hush of warm air coming in from the vents and Virgil mumbling in his sleep. He again felt a wave of gratitude towards Virgil for being such a wonderful roommate, despite his unorganized lifestyle. He tucked his shoes under his bed, and suppressed the urge to hum as he changed into pajamas and pulled a Picasso-esque sweater over his head. He flicked off the overhead light, and plugged in his BB-8 fairy lights. His bed was bathed in faint yellow light, while Virgil’s side of the room was cast in shadow. He was about to climb onto his bed, sushi in hand when Virgil suddenly cried out, as if in pain. 

“Virgil, are you well?” Logan asked, placing his sushi on his bed and turning to face Virgil’s bed, standing on tiptoe and furrowing his brow in concern. 

“...Can you turn off the goddamn lights?” his roommate groaned in response.

Logan blinked, squinting through the shadows. He could just discern the silhouette of Virgil slowly moving into an upright position on his bed, his hands clasped against his head.  

“...They are off.”

Virgil moaned. 

“Are you sure you’re OK?”

Silence. 

“You’re acting peculiar, Virgil.”

The response Logan got was a pathetic whimper, and one that was so defeated. Logan hadn’t heard Virgil sound in such dire straits since his first meltdown in front of Logan, in the spring of freshman year. 

“I-I’m fine, I just don’t feel real good.” Virgil responded lamely.

Logan stood in place, chewing his lip. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, and rubbed his wrist. He didn’t know if he was crossing any boundaries by asking Virgil about his ailments. He swallowed his misgivings when he just got the feeling that something was...wrong.

“Are you hurting physically? Or perhaps mentally?” he asked slowly, watching Virgil closely. 

The silence suggested that ‘both’ was the correct answer.

Logan sighed inaudibly, swallowing. In the past, he had left Virgil to himself whenever he was struggling mentally, figuring that Virgil could best get his mind together if left to his own devices. Virgil was ashamed of his poor mental health, especially when it manifested in front of another person. Logan hardly blamed him; he himself was hardly a helpful person when it came to comforting the hurt and aiding the emotionally sick. 

“...Would you find it suitable for your recovery if I was to leave?” Logan asked, his tone reluctant. He had just gotten changed, and his sushi was waiting for him-

“ _ No _ ,” came the sharp response. Logan, though at times not the most socially adept, could have sworn he heard Virgil’s voice break, “No...I’m sorry, I got this huge migraine and I didn’t take medicine on time and now I can barely fucking move ‘cuz everything hurts and I didn't take meds yet because I forgot to get some water and I didn't eat anything and I can’t just go to bed because I gotta read three fucking tablets of  _ Gilgamesh _ before midnight and I-”

“Whoa, whoa,” Logan said, moving to Virgil’s bedside and raising his hands to calm the shallow and rapid burble of words falling out of Virgil’s mouth, “One thought at a time, alright? Speaking at such a rate and forgoing deep, calm breathing will in all likelihood stimulate an anxiety attack.”

As Logan reached down amongst the tangle of wires at the foot of Virgil’s bed, he heard Virgil groan, indicating that he had nodded, and heard him take several stuttery attempts at deep, calming breaths. As Logan flickered on Virgil’s fairy lights so he could better examine his friend, he heard him say “I’m not...I just don’t feel good. In the head.”

Logan couldn’t help but chuckle softly as he straightened up. He returned to Virgil’s side, the other man having moved to a sitting position, his legs dangling over the bed. His head was hanging, his fingers twisting in his lap. 

“I can take that to mean one of two things, Verge,” Logan said quietly, taking extra care to keep his voice soft so as to not worsen Virgil’s migraine. 

Virgil hissed, rubbing his face in frustration. “Just talk straight, OK? My head feels like it’s splitting in half, and yeah, so what if I’m a little anxious right now?”

“I never made any mention of being anxious as being a bad thing. I mean you no harm,” Logan reminded him gently. With proper lighting, he looked Virgil up and down. He was quivering ever so slightly, and swaying from side to side. His skin was pale, and his movements seemed heavy except for his hands. They were wringing together in his lap, one of Virgil’s primary indicators of anxiety. Logan thought that perhaps he looked a bit clammy, and wondered whether or not he was becoming ill. Tentatively, he reached his hand forward, but paused midway. 

“Virgil, could you…can I...?”

Virgil lifted his head as if it had the weight of a thousand rocks, and looked with red rimmed eyes at Logan. Logan’s chest tightened when he saw his wobbling lips and his wetly shining eyes. Virgil’s eyes narrowed as his eyes alighted on Logan’s partially uplifted hand. He glanced pointedly at Logan, too exhausted or too pained to speak.

“Can I take your temperature? I want to make sure you’re not falling seriously ill,” Logan asked, misgivings and the desire to run coursing through him. Was he pushing a boundary? He tended to do that a lot as a result of his social ineptitude. But he wanted to make sure that Virgil was alright. His fingers began to curl back towards himself in uncertainty, but Virgil nodded slowly, out of caution or out of fear of paining himself further Logan was unsure. Either way, he gently pressed his hand to Virgil’s forehead while pressing his other hand to his own forehead. He felt a warm quaver in his stomach when he saw Virgil’s eyes flutter closed. 

What was he doing? Logan was hardly the caregiver, yet here he was, stricken with the desire to feel Virgil’s forehead, to see that he wasn’t feverish! All he’d have to do to be any more like Patton was change his major to early childhood education. Normally, it was Patton who did all of this nursing business for them all. Patton was always the one with the thermometer, or the alka-seltzer. Patton was the one with the subscription to Chegg. But why now did he feel it was his responsibility to help Virgil; indeed, why was he so  _ worried _ ? Why, suddenly, did it matter to him so that Virgil was made comfortable, that he was eased of his suffering? And what was this feeling in his stomach that flared sharply every time Virgil’s breath puffed out onto his wrist? Surely, that was not the infamous butterfly sensation?

“Well, doc, am I gonna die?”

Logan blinked, and saw Virgil squinting up at him. He cleared his throat, and hastily removed his hand. Virgil’s head lolled forward alarmingly, as if he had been leaning into the hand. He groaned, and rubbed at his temples. 

“Uh...You’re a little warm, but not warm enough for me to get concerned. Your prognosis is good.” Logan said, his hands quickly diving into his pockets.

Virgil chuckled shortly. “Yeah, whatever. I gotta...I gotta get some water...I’ll be OK.”

He was about to slide off of the bed when he was paused mid-motion by Logan quickly reached out in a halting gesture, his fingers splayed. He froze, and stared with wide, slightly concerned at his quickly flustering friend. 

“No, wait!” Logan spluttered, quite as if he was venturing off script. He certainly felt out of place when he gestured for Virgil to sit back and found himself saying “Let me get it. You...You just relax.”

Virgil’s expression twisted minutely into one of awkwardness. His eyes skittered away from Logan’s and he rubbed his arm, his feet starting to swing uneasily. “But I’m getting up anyway. I gotta...I gotta handle myself...”

Virgil blinked rapidly, and Logan put on a show of pretending not to notice the two fat tears that rolled down his cheeks before Virgil’s ashamed face was quickly hidden by sweaterpaws as he groaned. 

Logan huffed through his nose and worried his lip between his teeth. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his pajamas, rubbing the soft material as he tried to sort through the wave of emotions in his chest. Virgil was very obviously overwhelmed, likely torn between the desire for independence and the realization that he truly needed some help. Logan was only too sympathetic of his situation; he knew how debilitating migraines could be. He reached forward, and patted Virgil’s shoulder before heading over to their shared fridge, pulling out a bottle of water. He returned, and awkwardly tugged on Virgil’s sleeve until Virgil peeked through his fingers at him. 

Logan held out the water, the lid already twisted off. “Here. Take a drink, and try to voice one concern at a time,” he urge quietly, smiling softly.

Virgil cautiously took the offering, and took several sips as Logan rooted around on the top shelf of one of their storage containers. He took several deep breaths and watched as Logan pulled out napkins and some paper plates. He scrubbed at his eyes when Logan turned away, rustling with a plastic bag. The noise seemed amplified to Virgil, his ears ringing and his eyes throbbing with both migraine pangs and tears. He was so tired. His head fucking  _ hurt.  _ He had so much to do-

_ Try to voice one thought at a time.  _

“...I didn’t take my medicine on time…” Virgil began slowly, “Is there any point in taking it now?”

Logan turned around, and smiled encouragingly. “Yes, of course. The medicine will do its job, though perhaps not to the extent that you may like. May I ask why you didn’t take it right away?”

Virgil sighed, closed his eyes, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I figured it would go away once I finished my work. Needless to say, it didn’t, and now I need to do my work before midnight with a fucking migraine.”

He rubbed his temples and sighed again. “Just kill me, Logan. You’d be doing me a favor.”

He heard Logan chuckle, his tone slightly forced, but Virgil appreciated its good natured vibes. “I think I’d be doing you more of a favor if I gave you this.”

Virgil opened his eyes and saw Logan holding out a plate loaded with his favorite sushi rolls. If Virgil didn't know Logan any better, he’d say that he was looking almost shy. A smile was fighting to be seen on his lips, and his shoulders were hunching slightly, as if he was trying to hide himself. 

Logan gave an uncertain laugh as Virgil merely gaped at him. “I...I stopped at the sushi cart on Fourth Street, and I figured that since I was there and that you have a particular preference for the avocado rolls that I would purchase you some as well.”

Logan shook the plate hopefully. Virgil swallowed, and bit back the overwhelming feeling of gratitude that washed over him, ignoring his fluttering heart that cheered as, suddenly, his loneliness began to vanish. Tentatively, he took the plate.

“Oh! This is...uh...” Virgil stammered, pressing his elbows into his stomach so as to silence the sudden roaring of his stomach, “That’s real thoughtful of you...Thanks.”

Logan smiled and watched as Virgil fumbled with the wrapper of the chopsticks, and, with fondness, took them out of Virgil’s shaking hands and opened them, breaking the sticks apart before handing them back. Virgil picked a roll up with the dexterity of a veteran chopstick user and shoved it into his mouth, chewing tenderly so as to not aggravate his pain further. His expression seemed much less panicked than it had previously, and he was no longer crying. Logan turned back to his own meal, leaving Virgil to his eating. 

“...You don’t have to do this.”

Logan looked up from where he was opening his own dinner, and saw Virgil looking at him with an unreadable expression, the corner of his mouth smeared with a small piece of avocado. 

“I’m sorry, do what?” he asked, genuinely confused as to what Virgil meant. 

Virgil shuffled uncomfortably, and picked at a spot on his neck. “This,” he muttered, shaking the plate and gesturing to the water bottle, “I was...I was handling myself…”

Logan adopted a thoughtful expression, leaning against his bed as he mulled over Virgil’s words. “I know I don’t have to, Virgil,” he responded slowly, “...But I want to.”

Virgil gaped, but Logan missed his blush due to the poor lighting. However, Logan knew that Virgil had assented to him by the way he was failing to bite back a smile as he focused on the plate in his lap. Logan’s stomach fluttered again, and he decided it was because perhaps he was hungry as well. He opened his own meal, and they merely ate together in silence.

“Are you feeling any better?” Logan asked quietly after Virgil had eaten half of his portion and pushed it aside about half an hour later. 

“I’m not hungry anymore, but my head still fucking hurts.” With that note, Virgil popped open the painkillers and swallowed two of the pills. 

“No, I was referring to your mental health,” Logan said, liking to think that his tone was encouraging. He knew that this was a sensitive topic. 

Virgil made a vague hand gesture and grumbled incoherently.

Logan took a deep breath. “Is there anything you...need to talk about?”

Virgil’s face twitched, and he immediately curled in on himself, his legs clapping together and his arms clinging to his sides. He shook his head sharply, and swore lightly, growling through the pain. 

Logan’s stomach clenched. He immediately knew that Virgil did, in fact, need to talk to someone. But he was so damn defensive, so closed off. He hated relying on other people for anything, even something as minor as him asking for Logan to do even the slightest of favors, such as turning off the light or giving him food. Logan had been fine with it at first, respected Virgil’s privacy, but he didn’t know how to act now that he knew that said privacy was damaging his friend. He was bottling up again. He was willing to gamble that Virgil’s migraine was being caused by stress. Hadn’t Virgil said something about procrastinating on an assignment? And were midterms not soon approaching?

Logan swallowed the last morsel of his food, and straightened up, catching Virgil’s eye, his expression earnest. “Are you sure?” he asked, trying not to sound too pressing.

“Completely.” Virgil hissed, his eyes narrowing. 

“Because in the event that you did need to talk to someone, I’m...I’m here to listen,” Logan said calmly, “I admit I may not be the best in terms of reassurance and advice, but, regardless...I’m here.”

Virgil snapped his mouth shut, and wiped at it with his sleeve. “...Whatever,” he bit out, and he promptly laid down, tossing his food onto his desk, “I’m going to sleep.”

“Oh,” Logan mumbled, thoroughly put out, “Goodnight.”

Virgil began to shuffle with his sheets, and Logan quietly crawled into his own bed. He couldn’t understand it. Had he said something wrong? Perhaps his tone had been hurtful. Virgil had gone from warm and flusteredly happy to cold and angry in the passing of one sentence, and that sentence was an offer of help, at that! The sadness in Logan’s heart was quickly replaced with frustration. There was no helping that kid, it seemed. 

Logan was about to burrow under his covers and flip open his laptop when there came a sudden and loud curse from Virgil’s bed. 

“Wait, what time is it?!” Virgil gasped hoarsely, struggling into a sitting position, various objects falling off of his bed as he floundered around. 

Logan blinked, and glanced at his bedside clock. “It’s ten thirty,” he said cautiously, his tone also slightly curious as he watched Virgil struggle to escape the blankets’ grasp. 

“No, no,  _ no,  _ I have to read three chapters and take a twenty question quiz by midnight,  _ fuck _ !” Virgil moaned, feeling around his bed for his laptop and switching it on. The blue light briefly illuminated his face, and Logan winced with Virgil as he imagined the searing pain he must have felt when the light flooded his eyes. Virgil swore again, his voice breaking as he covered his eyes. In the light, Logan could see him shaking, and instantly, his frustration with Virgil vanished. 

“...I can’t do this,” Virgil moaned weakly, his tone so quiet that Logan was certain that it was a proclamation not meant for his ears. 

“...Perhaps you shouldn’t,” Logan ventured softly, “Virgil, you work extremely hard, and you rarely give yourself a break. I’m sure missing one quiz will not harm your grade that much-”

“But it will, Logan!” Virgil snapped, slamming his fists into the mattress, and turning to glare at him, “I’ve already fucked up so many of these quizzes! My grade is gonna tank! And then I’m gonna fail and lose my scholarship and, and-!”

Logan was off of his bed and padding over to Virgil in a moment’s notice. Bravely, he grabbed Virgil’s knee and squeezed gently, cutting off Virgil’s verbal flow and causing him to make eye contact. 

“Your breaths are shallow, leading me to believe that you are on the verge of hyperventilation,” Logan said calmly, rubbing Virgil’s kneecap gently with his thumb, “Please try to take deep breaths, OK?”

Virgil blinked pleadingly at him, but looked away, his face coloring with shame. However, he complied, taking deep breaths and squeezing the soft material of his blanket. Logan could almost feel the tension radiating off of him in waves. 

“I’m sorry,” Virgil whimpered, his voice broken. He limply punched the mattress, his lip quivering.

“It’s alright. You’re upset,” Logan whispered.

“It’s  _ not  _ alright,” Virgil argued, refusing to make eye contact, “You’re just...You’re just trying to help me and I’m being a jerk again.”

Virgil huffed unhappily. There came a heavy silence. Logan fumbled with words to say, rolling over different cliches and platitudes in his mind. The longer neither of them spoke, the more tense Virgil became. Suddenly, an idea came to life in Logan’s mind.

“Your assignment is due at midnight, is it not?” he asked.

Virgil moaned miserably and gave an affirmative thumbs up. 

“Alright…” Logan said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully “Then we’ve got an hour and a half to read three chapters and take a quiz.”

“Y’know, doing the math isn’t really helping,” Virgil laughed nervously, “...Wait, what do you mean ‘we’?”

Virgil looked at him, his eyes narrowing in suspicion once again. 

“I mean that, if you’d let me, I can read to you the passages that you are to be tested on so that you may not strain your eyes and potentially worsen your migraine,” Logan replied, shooting Virgil a searching look. 

Virgil’s features softened, his eyebrows unfurrowing and his lips parting softly. He blinked, the skeptical gleam in his eyes melting into something much softer. “You...You’d really do that?” he asked as if he could hardly believe his ears. 

Logan nodded firmly. 

“But...you’re a nerd, can’t I just slide you a twenty and you’d do it for me?” Virgil said, trying to make light of a heavy situation.

Logan arched an eyebrow. “No, of course not. You wouldn’t learn if I did it for you.”

Virgil sighed, and hung his head. “You don’t have to do it, I can do it on my own.”

“I’m sure you can,” Logan said indulgently, “However, do you want to?” 

Virgil thought for a moment, rubbing his neck. His knees bounced slightly under Logan’s hold. “I mean...no?” he said, his tone defeated.

“Then let me help you,” Logan whispered, gently pressing the knee down as he rightfully guessed that Virgil needed grounding. Virgil took a deep breath, and seemed to will himself to sit completely still. 

“But...I don’t want to bother you,” Virgil murmured from between the lip he was biting.

“I wouldn’t volunteer to do something if it bothered me, Virgil. And besides...I just want to help you, alright?” Logan said, trying not to let on his frustration at not being allowed to help his friend.

Virgil hesitated. What he said next made a pang of triumph and happiness spike in Logan’s chest. “...Just...just don’t tell the others, OK?”

“Excellent,” Logan murmured excitedly, “I won’t breathe a word.”

“Good, because Roman will have a field day if he hears that you read me a story,” Virgil grumbled, watching as Logan bent down to collect the book that had fallen off of his bed when he had sat up. Virgil reached for his laptop and wiggled the mouse to chase away his screensaver while Logan padded quietly to his desk, rummaging in one of the drawers. 

“I’ll use my booklight to read,” Logan explained when Virgil inquired as to what he was doing, “That way we can turn off the fairy lights and minimize the amount of light in your eyes.”

Logan returned, holding in his hand his clip-on booklight. Many a night Logan would clip the contraption to his books and read into the early hours of the morning. Although he didn’t like to admit it, Virgil loved watching Logan read. He could see just how quickly Logan would get immersed in his book, and how enraptured his glazed eyes would get, a small smile forming on his lips. He was such a nerd. 

Despite his inner voice raging for independence and a desire to for him to complete his work on his own and not act like a weak bitch, Virgil was actually somewhat excited to have Logan read to him. He was too exhausted to indulge in his pride; he was in reality quite grateful that Logan had provided him with an alternative to completing his work. Squinting at the laptop screen, he ignored his aches as best as he could as he pulled up the twenty question quiz. He groaned inwardly when he saw a lot of ‘describe’ and ‘explain’ questions. He kicked off his boots. It was going to be a long night.

He looked up when he heard Logan pulling up his chair and clearing his throat. “You said you had to read tablets one through three, correct?” he asked, peering up at Virgil over the rims of his glasses, smacking the booklight as it flickered. He had had the light since freshman year. It had gone through a lot, and was likely in its dying days. 

“Yeah, unfortunately,” Virgil responded, resting his head against the wall and closing his eyes, “Though I read part of tablet one already.”

Logan nodded, and hummed as he thumbed through the pages until he reached the first chapter, “I suggest you lie down. I think it would perhaps alleviate some of the pressure in your head.” 

Virgil needed no second bidding. Logan waited until he was comfortably snuggled down amongst his blankets before beginning. He cleared his throat, and was about to read when he was interrupted. 

“Hey, Logan?”

Logan looked up again. “Yes?”

“...Thanks.” Virgil muttered quietly.

Logan grinned, his chest warming softly. “No problem.” he said, quite pleased.

And thus, Logan began to read. He tried to keep his voice well modulated and quiet enough so as to not disturb Virgil, but also loud enough so that Virgil could hear him and absorb what he was saying. He read slowly and clearly, settling back into his chair to get more comfortable. Virgil was a good subject to read to; he remained respectfully quiet and did not fidget.

But something just did not feel right about the whole situation. No matter much closer he edged his chair closer to Virgil’s bed, Logan feared that Virgil couldn’t hear him. Virgil frequently furrowed his brows when Logan spoke, and he appeared to be tilting his head closer to Logan, as if willing the sound of the voice to enter his ear. 

Logan, at Virgil’s desire, skipped over the part of Enkidu meeting Shamhat, but before he could pick up a good spot in which to resume, Virgil interrupted him again. 

“Logan, I can’t hear you very well,” he mumbled, rubbing his forehead and sitting up. 

“I can read louder, you don’t have to move,” Logan said as Virgil swung his legs over the edge of the bed. 

“No, I’m moving because I have to pee...But, any louder and I think it’ll hurt my head…” Virgil grumbled, moving gingerly as he prepared to slide to the floor. 

“Well, it appears we have reached what is known as impasse, as I can’t speak louder and nor can I get closer to you,” Logan said, his tone slightly annoyed. He thumbed the pages agitatedly.

“...Well…” Virgil said quietly, his gaze wandering over to his bed. Logan watched as Virgil looked from the spot on his bed and back to him, nibbling his lips and bobbing his head pointedly. 

Logan got the impression that he was supposed to be understanding something better left unspoken, but, as per usual, it flew over his head. “Oh,” he said in an overly emphasized tone of realization, only so that he would appear to understand why Virgil kept staring at his bedsheets “Uh…”

“Yeah,” Virgil said, tilting his head awkwardly to the spot next him.

Logan nodded, but didn’t move. After a few moments of tense silence, Logan cleared his throat. “I apologize, but I’m not sure what you’re trying to say-”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, just get up here, will you?” Virgil snapped, patting the spot next to him in frustration. 

“Oh!” Logan said in genuine realization. 

“Turn off the lights on your way up,” Virgil grumbled as he slid down, his face flushed scarlet. He brushed past Logan, flipping up his hoodie and scurrying out of the door into the direction of the bathroom. Logan shook his head and stood, pushing the chair back to his desk. He knelt down to the tangle of wires next to Virgil’s bed, and flicked off the fairy lights. Soon, the only light in the room came from his booklight and the silvery, filtered rays of the moon spilling in from the window. Cautiously, as if stepping into uncharted territory, Logan climbed onto Virgil’s bed. He sat perpendicular to the mattress, his back pressed against the wall and his legs out straight. His feet hung slightly off of the edge of the bed. 

Virgil’s bed was unlike Logan’s own bed in that it was littered with various pillows and had numerous blankets. It was also unlike Logan’s bed in that Virgil made an effort to hide his teddy bear, and Logan didn’t. Logan chuckled, humoring Virgil by tucking the plaything further out of sight. Logan preferred having one pillow and one blanket, and he left his ancient plush dinosaur in plain sight in an attempt to assuage Virgil’s embarrassment at having a comfort animal, but to no avail. He plucked one of the pillows from Virgil’s end of the bed and propped it behind his back, aware that he was going to be there for a while. He then placed another on his lap, and rested his elbows on it, reading the preface to the novel as he waited for Virgil to come back. 

Virgil returned a few minutes later. He closed the door quietly behind him, and slunk into the room. He swore a few times as he bumped into various objects and tripped over scattered clothing. Eventually, he climbed up onto the bed, and sat facing with his knees drawn up to his chest, his chin resting on his knees. He looked extremely uncomfortable, both physically and socially

“Perhaps you should lie down,” Logan suggested again.

Virgil’s expression was lost to darkness when Logan’s booklight flickered off again, but his response was clear. “Yeah, yeah it’s good for my head or whatever.”

Logan fiddled with the booklight, feeling Virgil shift in the space next to him. Logan was just beginning to firmly attach the contraption to the book when suddenly, a warm, heavy weight descended into his lap. He stiffened, his cheeks growing warm when he realized that Virgil had laid his head onto the pillow in his lap. Despite his common sense telling him that it was the darkness and therefore a lack of visual reference that made Virgil lay down in such a position, Logan couldn’t help but feel pleasantly surprised that Virgil trusted him enough to even let him on his bed, let alone this. Logan relaxed, trying his very hardest not to move so that he could savor this moment while it lasted.

“‘M ready.” Virgil said just as Logan got the light to work again. 

“Alright. Do you remember what has happened thus far?” Logan asked, gazing at the head of purple hair in his lap. It took a shocking amount of control to suffocate the impulse to pet Virgil’s messy locks into something much more presentable. 

“Yeah.” Virgil mumbled, curling one hand on the edge of the pillow and nestling closer. The quaver in Logan’s stomach thrashed, tingling so much that it almost hurt. Logan was slightly distracted when he continued to read where they had left off. He tried to ignore how happy he was beginning to feel, how the inexplicable desire to aid in his chest purred with happiness now that Virgil was settling down (it was taking him a little while to fully relax. He was still a little tense, and he kept squirming, as if trying to get more comfortable). It was foolish, how much Logan was analyzing the situation, but he soon discovered that he didn’t want to deny how complacent he now felt, reading to Virgil in a calm voice, the room peacefully silent save for his voice and Virgil’s breathing. 

Soon, Logan got lost in the reading, becoming more and more immersed in the book. He became so enthralled with the reading that he forgot his promise to himself not to move; unconsciously, he shifted his legs as he felt himself sliding further and further down the wall. 

Virgil, whose eyes had been falling shut at the soothing tones of Logan’s voice, tensed when he felt his pillow moving beneath him. His heart leapt into his throat when he quickly jumped to the conclusion that he was  _ lying in Logan’s lap.  _ He cursed himself, ugly, throbbing embarrassment tightening in his lungs. Why hadn’t Logan said anything? And why hadn’t Virgil himself lay down at the head of his bed, like a normal person? Logan stopped reading, and Virgil knew that Logan had sensed his discomfort. Now, he couldn't use the excuse that he didn’t realize he was in Logan’s lap. Fuck. 

“S-Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t...I didn’t realize…” Virgil muttered, quickly propping himself up with his elbow. He was about to turn around and curl up into the tightest ball of shame when a hurried hand gripped his shoulder, pushing down firmly yet gently. 

“No, it’s...you’re fine,” Logan murmured quietly above him, his tone unsure but also somewhat...pleading, “I don’t mind.”

Virgil hesitated. “You...You’re sure?” he breathed, his tone hopeful.

“Quite sure,” came Logan’s firm response. As Virgil allowed himself to be eased down by Logan’s pressing hand, Logan cleared his throat. “I was... I found it to be quite pleasant, in fact.”

Virgil’s face flushed as he curled back into his previous position. “You...You did?” he croaked out, hardly believing his ears. 

“Yes.” Logan replied simply.

“Oh.”

There was a moment of thick silence. Neither knew what to say. 

Virgil sighed, and sat up. Logan’s hand reluctantly moved away, and he could hear Logan take a breath so he could speak, but no response came when Logan saw that Virgil was reaching for his pillow. Logan respectfully pretended to be focused on fiddling with his booklight when Virgil furtively snatched his ratty teddy bear. Virgil plopped the second pillow in Logan’s lap, and quickly settled down, the teddy bear disappearing as it was lost to the shadows of Virgil’s arms. Virgil lay back down, facing the center of the room, and let out a contented sigh. Logan let out a happy hum when he felt Virgil snuggle minutely closer, his hand curling around Logan’s knee. 

Virgil closed his eyes once more as Logan cleared his throat and resumed reading. A small smile played on his lips. He could feel the painkillers starting to do their work; the pain in his head was slowly subsiding. He suddenly felt very warm, both emotionally and physically. Logan had rested his hand on Virgil’s shoulder again, and Virgil’s chest ached with a sore happiness when Logan’s thumb seemingly unconsciously began to rub back and forth, stroking methodically and soothingly. 

Virgil could feel his anxieties and loneliness begin to drain away; he knew Logan would help him get his work done on time, and Logan’s reassuring warmth and calm, welcoming presence made him feel less and less alone. He heard Logan’s stomach gurgle and burble as he digested, and he felt the rich vibrations of Logan’s voice as he leaned his head back into Logan’s soft stomach. Hazily, he realized that he was going to soon fall asleep, and he fought to keep his eyes open. But Logan’s voice was so sonorous, and the room was so warm…

“That’s the end of tablet one,” Logan murmured, gently squeezing Virgil’s shoulder, “Do you want me to continue or do you wish to try and answer the questions pertaining to this tablet?”  

Logan smiled when he heard Virgil burble sleepily. “...No, please keep going…” he mumbled, nestling closer and pressing his head further against Logan’s stomach, his fingers curling. Logan’s heart warmed, and he patted Virgil’s shoulder before switching which hand held the book. His arm was getting tired. His right hand now filled with book, he daringly rested his left on Virgil’s head. He touched with feather light strokes, merely brushing the hair flat. He couldn’t help himself; he had been completely right in assuming that Virgil’s hair was soft and fluffy. He smiled fondly when Virgil hummed sleepily, and seemed to completely melt under the touch. 

“Keep going…” Virgil mumbled, and for a moment, Logan wasn’t sure if he was talking about the stroking or the reading. He continued both.

Virgil was now extremely glad that Logan had offered to help. He hadn’t felt this relaxed in a very long time. He squeezed his bear to his chest and nestled deeper into the pillows. Mounds of tension he didn’t know he was holding completely dissipated when he felt Logan’s tentative fingers curl into his hair. His breathing was calm, and he suddenly didn’t care what time it was. He wished that this session would go on for forever, Logan reading in his deep, soothing voice, Virgil surrounded by warmth. Here, no one expected anything of him. Here, in the dark and the warmth, he could relax. His eyes fluttered shut under the careful carding of Logan’s fingers through his hair, and despite his now faint misgivings, he began to ignore what Logan was saying, losing himself instead to the many soothing stimulations around him.

Meanwhile, Logan was completely unaware that Virgil was falling asleep. In fact, he was completely oblivious to everything, far too focused on reading and stroking to pay attention to the slowing and deepening of Virgil’s breath and his lack of movement. He was so comfortable; the blankets were soft and warm beneath him, and Virgil was a calming weight on his lap. He blinked heavily when he felt the charms of the night getting to him; more than once he had to pause and yawn. He was sinking lower and lower, and his head was veering slightly sideways as he read. 

Too soon, he reached the end of the second tablet, and he had to stop and shake Virgil to ask him whether or not he wanted to stop and start the quiz. He was pleasantly surprised when Virgil moaned pathetically, and stubbornly curled closer, his arms wrapping around Logan’s leg.

“Noo…” he whimpered, “Keep reading...Voice so nice…”

Logan smiled, his cheeks tinting. As he tried to respond to Virgil’s compliment, he yawned, and he decided instead to squint at the clock on Virgil’s laptop; he was startled to see that it was now quarter after eleven. 

Through his yawn, he said “You better not be falling asleep; we still have to take the quiz and I need you awake to do that.”

Virgil mumbled something incoherent and yawned.

Logan shrugged to himself, and cleared his throat as he continued to read, blinking heavily. He really wished he could get up and drink some water, but he wouldn’t dare move and disturb Virgil. He plowed on, his voice growing more and more raspy until he could stand it no more and he reached for Virgil’s water bottle. Virgil didn’t even shift when Logan leaned forward, grabbing the bottle with the tips of his fingers. Logan hastily gulped the water, and continued reading.

When Logan finished the final tablet ten minutes later, Virgil was a dead weight in his lap. He shook Virgil gently, murmuring his name softly. Virgil, a heavy sleeper, did not move. Logan listened fondly as Virgil’s breaths whistled as he inhaled and exhaled in a deep rhythm. His arm was loose around Logan’s legs, and Logan could feel every breath he took. For several moments, Logan merely stroked Virgil’s hair. He was faced with a conundrum; Virgil’s quiz was due in roughly thirty-five minutes, but he was also currently having one of the most peaceful sleeps Logan had ever seen him have. And Logan didn’t want him to move. Though he hated to admit it, he absolutely adored having Virgil trust him so much, he loved the closeness, he loved making sure that Virgil felt safe. He just couldn’t wake him up.

He made up his mind. Carefully, he put down the book and detached the booklight. He dragged Virgil’s laptop closer to himself, and woke it back up. Taking great pains not to move too much, he typed in answers to the quiz (‘why is it important for Gilgamesh to have an equal? How is Gilgamesh hurting the future of his city by claiming divine right to all of the brides-to-be?’). His eyes were growing heavier and heavier the longer he typed, but he forced himself to stay awake long enough to ensure that his- or rather, Virgil’s- responses were well worded and correct. With ten minutes to spare, Logan finished the quiz and submitted it under Virgil’s name. 

He let out a gusty sigh, and switched the laptop off, the room now bathed in complete darkness. He leaned his head back against the wall and allowed his eyes to adjust to the faint moonlight filtering in from the window. Logan blinked slowly, and savored his surroundings. The faint tick of his clock, the gentle hush of warm air from the vents, and the hubbub of voices that were heard in a college dormitory filled his ears. He smiled softly, listening to the gentle sounds while absently petting Virgil’s hair like he would a cat. He reached over, and gently pulled the blanket that was loosely tangled around Virgil’s legs up to his shoulder, clumsily tucking it around his sleeping form with one hand. Virgil shifted slightly, and Logan’s right hand came to rest on Virgil’s warm side. Virgil stilled immediately, burbling softly to himself. 

Logan certainly did not plan to for his eyes to slowly fall closed as he methodically stroked Virgil’s hair. He certainly did not intend for the soothing warmth all around him to cause him to yawn, his train of thought gradually slowing down as his head began to loll to the side. And he simply did not recall pulling Virgil closer to himself as he sank further down the wall, Virgil’s head now resting on his stomach. 

But sometimes, one simply cannot stick to the plan. 

 

* * *

 

The slightly hungover and affection hungry Patton that opened the door to Logan and Virgil’s dorm the next morning around nine was extremely startled. He opened the door quietly, aware that Virgil would probably be sleeping (Virgil liked to sleep late on the weekends). He did not expect, however, to find Virgil and Logan fast asleep on Virgil’s bed, surrounded by pillows and various objects like a dead laptop, a book, and a discarded teddy bear. Logan had his chin resting on his chest, his glasses skewed and his hands wrapped loosely around Virgil’s back and arm. Patton nearly squealed when he saw that Virgil was deep in sleep, his arms curled around Logan’s waist, his cheek resting on Logan’s stomach. They were a soft pile of limbs, completely still save for the gentle rise and fall of their chests as they breathed. The only sounds were their faint snoring and the squeal Patton was trying to smother behind the hands he had clasped to his mouth. He decided to snap a picture (not for blackmailing or anything, no, certainly not), and quickly take his leave. It was too cute for him to handle.  

Virgil was the first to wake up. He had opened his eyes when, as he had pulled his pillow closer to himself, it had gurgled slightly and made a sleepy noise. He blinked in confusion, and, with a jolt of realization, he completely froze. Slowly, the blood draining from his face, he lifted his head and saw Logan sleeping peacefully above him. His glasses were crooked and slipping down his nose, and his mouth was slightly ajar as he faintly snored. Virgil found the embarrassment coiling in his stomach quickly vanished, to be replaced by a new affection. He realized that he must have fallen asleep before Logan, and that Logan had stayed with him the entire night. Logan could have easily woken him up so that he may return to his bed so that he may sleep comfortably, but here he was, sound asleep with his arms wrapped around Virgil. Virgil grinned, not wanting to move. 

Virgil was about to bury his face into Logan’s squishy tummy again when suddenly cold, twisting fear stabbed at his insides. His quiz! He hadn’t taken his quiz, he  _ knew  _ he didn’t take it. He cursed himself, and uncoiled his arm from Logan’s waist to smack himself. He felt the hollow ache of his stomach welling up into his throat, his fingers and nose starting to tingle as his breathing grew faster and shallower, his thoughts racing-

“Mmm?” Logan hummed suddenly, his voice caked with sleep. Virgil froze, and looked up. Logan was blinking thickly, and he winced as he lifted his head. Virgil watched, completely unsure as to what to do as Logan sleepily looked around. Logan lifted his arms above his head and stretched, groaning with satisfaction as his spine popped. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and seemed to realize where he was when Virgil shifted slightly, for he looked down. His tired eyes met Virgil’s gaze, and he smiled. Virgil was completely taken aback when Logan stroked a hand through his hair, the touch featherlight and pleasant. Virgil’s eyes fluttered shut involuntarily, and he sighed with pleasure. 

“Good morning,” Logan croaked a few moments later, resting one hand in Virgil’s hair, the other coming to rest on his arm. 

“Morning,” Virgil responded.

“Mmm...have you recovered your physical and emotional health?” Logan murmured, his expression curiously soft. 

Virgil groaned, and stretched his legs. “Physical, yeah...emotional not so much.”

“Oh?”

“I didn’t get to take my quiz after all,” Virgil responded bluntly. 

Logan chuffed quietly. “I wouldn’t say that.”

Virgil rested his cheek against Logan’s stomach, straining to keep eye contact. “Whaddya mean?”

Logan’s fingers curled lightly in his hair. “It looks like you didn’t need to slide me a twenty after all. I did it for free.”

Virgil blinked, realizing what Logan was saying. “...You took it for me?”

Logan nodded, grinning at Virgil’s incredulous look. “You had fallen asleep around halfway through the third tablet, perhaps even earlier, and I...I couldn’t bring myself to wake you up. Despite my intentions to have you take the quiz so that you would be aptly prepared for your class, I knew that you needed that grade to soothe your anxieties. So I took the quiz for you.”

Virgil blinked, and felt a sting at the corner of his eyes. His mouth fumbled wordlessly. Soundlessly, he wrapped his arms around Logan’s waist and squeezed, burying his face into the soft fabric of Logan’s sweater. 

“...Thanks,” he mumbled. 

Logan chuckled. “Don’t think you’ve gotten off that easily. I took a screenshot of the questions, and I intend to have you answer them yourself.”

Virgil groaned. “I was  _ just  _ starting to think that maybe you’re not that bad of a guy,” he whined. 

Logan smiled, and ruffled Virgil’s hair. “Sorry, Verge. I’m an advocate for academic integrity.”

Stiffly, Virgil propped himself, leveraging himself with his hands on the mattress. He had a serious case of bedhead (or was it lap-head?), but he looked refreshed. He squinted at Logan, his face slowly starting to blush.

Virgil’s eyes skittered away, and he rubbed his neck as he said “How about instead of using that twenty to pay you to do my work, I use it to...to take you to breakfast?”

Virgil’s stomach dropped when his words were met with radio silence. He peered furtively at Logan, his heart pounding uncomfortably in his throat. Instantly, he regretted all of his life choices. However, when he caught Logan’s eye, he saw a blush forming on Logan’s cheeks. He had never seen Logan flustered before. Was he really flustered, or was he blushing because this was awkward and crossing far too many lines? Oh, god, what if Logan was  _ straight? _

“Are you asking me...Are you asking me to go out with-?” Logan spluttered.

“Yeah,” Virgil said hurriedly, miserably waiting for his offer to be rejected.

The few seconds of silence seemed like eons of judgment and pity to Virgil. 

Eventually, however, Logan spoke, and Virgil shrank in on himself.

“...I think that that would...that would be a good way to spend your money,” Logan said softly, firmly seeking Virgil’s eyes, “...and that I’d enjoy it. Very much.”

Virgil swallowed thickly, his heart soaring. “You would?!” he gasped, his voice rising in pitch. He clapped his hand to his mouth, and rubbed it as he fought down a smile as Logan chuckled softly. 

“I would,” Logan murmured warmly. 

They grinned at each other, both flushing, looking each other up and down. They saw each other in a different light. Eventually, they became so embarrassed at their situation that they both scurried off of the bed and set about getting ready for the day, Virgil grabbing his supplies for the shower and shooting out of the room and Logan desperately trying to figure out just what clothes to wear on his breakfast date with Virgil.

As Virgil stood beneath the warm spray of water minutes later, he sighed a shaky sigh of ecstasy. Breakfast date with Logan. He could hardly believe it. 

Virgil had never been happier about getting a migraine in his life.                        

 

 


End file.
